


How can one man stop his ending?

by Cypress_Dream



Category: Silent Hill (Video Game Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I take a hammer and fix the canon, Implied/Referenced Suicide, In Water Ending (Silent Hill) - Freeform, Its just a town James moves to, Kinda?, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Not Canon Compliant, Psychological Trauma, Sexual Content, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, except for mary lol, sex as a coping mechanism, silent hill is NOT spooky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:35:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29568303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cypress_Dream/pseuds/Cypress_Dream
Summary: Everyday, when he wakes up, he sits by the window overlooking the lake, and stays there. Sometimes for hours. He stares, and thinks about what it would be like to plunge himself into the water. The all encompassing cold that would consume him. The overwhelming color of blue that would invade his vision. He thinks about what it would be like to drown. The way his hair would float around him in a halo, the way water would fill his lungs until he was choking, gasping for air.A fitting punishment for a murderer, his inner voice sneers.-------------------------A depressing modern au where James escapes his previous life and lives in an apartment in a non-spooky version of silent hill after his wife's death. Somehow, he gets a boyfriend, a daughter, and a healthier mental state because of it.
Relationships: James Sunderland/Henry Townshend
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	How can one man stop his ending?

**Author's Note:**

> -my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/van-goghs-cypress)  
> -Title and chapter titles based off [Into the Ocean by Blue October](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZES3nJQYJok)  
> -WARNING: This fic deals with heavy subject matter, including very elaborate depictions of depression, suicidal thoughts, and overall just bad mental illness vibes. This is for Silent Hill, so I figure everyone is used to this, but just in case I'll put trigger warnings for all the chapters.  
> -TWs for this chapter: Depressing thoughts and suicidal thoughts.

James was depressed.

The doctors told him, after Mary died, that he was depressed. The diagnosis made sense. James never left the house, aside from work or visiting Mary. He would spend entire days in bed, too exhausted to get up. He would often do nothing for hours, just sitting at his desk chair, looking at all the items scattered around the room, and think of the life he lost. Of the life he is losing. He had all of the symptoms, so the diagnosis made sense. The doctors gave him a prescription for Sertraline, and sent him on his way.  _ This medication is… a temporary solution, _ the doctor had told him, as James sat on the crinkly paper in the doctor's office _. I'm sure now it feels endless, but once the grieving process is over, you’ll be able to get off the meds and back to normal no problem. _

Normal. As if James could ever get back to normal after all he’s been through. After all he’s done. 

After getting the prescription, after the funeral, after Mary died, after  _ everything _ , James decided to move. He couldn't stand living in that goddamn house, with all of her things. Every single corner of the place brought back endless memories. Of Mary, of the person who he used to be. James packed up all of his shit, threw out all of her things, and moved to an apartment in Silent Hill. He figured, if he could move to one place, why not there? Sure, the place was tied to his memories of Mary, but it was not as oppressive as whenever he stepped into his house. In that resort town, he felt a little closer to her. A hair's breadth away. She was, after all, buried there. It only made sense to tie himself to that location, to their special little town. 

He got a small apartment that overlooked the lake, and after selling his admittedly large house, he was able to exist off the income from it. Sure, he still had those frankly enormous hospital bills, the ones he had already been trying to work off, but he couldn't find it within himself to care about them. He let the worries about them slip away, deciding to panic over them later, like he did with everything.

James got to work unpacking everything in his new apartment, once the lease was settled and he was cleared to actually move in. Admittedly, he didn't have much. A few bland, boring outfits, sparse furniture, overall nothing entirely special. Mary was the one who had style, who owned most of the interesting things in their home. He had thrown most of it out, or at least sent her valuables to his in-laws. There were only three things he kept that reminded him of her: His wedding ring, the photo, and her letter.

He takes off his wedding ring the first day he gets there, the cold weight of it almost overpowering on his hand. He sets the ring inside of his bedside table, willing himself to forget about its existence. The medication sits on top of this bedside table, unopened from the day he bought it. He doesn't see how it could possibly help. How anything could drag him out of his mind. When he wakes up, each morning since he got them, he stares at them for a while, as if daring them to make a move. 

The meds sit next to a letter,  _ her _ letter, the one she left after she died. It's folded neatly, not a crease out of place. He hasn't looked at it since that first day, but those words still ring in his mind.  _ James, you made me happy. _ He keeps it folded. Maybe that way he can pretend it's just an ordinary scrap of paper.

And the photo, the one of her in that dress he loved, he puts on the mantle, facing the lake where it was taken. He figured he owed it to her, to keep her photo. So that he didn't forget what she looked like, what he did. 

Other than that, everything else was owned by him. It didn't take long to get everything in its proper place, and soon enough, James was finished. Alone, in his new apartment, after his world had finally finished collapsing. He often thought about when this day would come. The day when Mary was already dead, and he was finally able to move on after seeing his wife die for three entire years. Back then, he would cringe away from the thought, cursing himself for thinking that way, knowing in his heart he was a terrible person for imaging it. But every so often he would think about this moment. The moment his life would start again.

Standing in the middle of his bare apartment, the dull carpet underneath his feet, staring at the lake outside the window, James doesn't feel like his life is beginning at all. It feels more like its ending. 

* * *

Eventually, James fell into a routine.

Everyday, he woke up at around 11am and stared at his medication. Eventually, he gets up, takes a shower, and does his online accounting job on his nice laptop from four years ago, back when he could afford a nice laptop. By around 4pm, he realises he should eat, and scrounges something together. Usually it's takeout, but James isn't made of money, so he sometimes makes something small for himself in the small and cramped kitchen. He isn't very hungry these days anyway.

Then, he would stare out the window, at Toluca Lake. He’d stare until the hour turned late, until he couldn't see the water very clearly anymore from the fog or the dark sky. He filled in the rest of the hours of the day by either doing chores or cleaning. He goes to bed at around 8pm.

Day in, day out, the routine remained the same. James didn't enjoy going out in public much, not anymore. He usually only leaves the apartment to pick up groceries, now. Years of being known as ‘that guy whose wife is dying’ in a small town turned him into a bit of an agoraphobe. He didn't want to see people purposely avoiding his eye, or worse, shooting him pitying looks. Logically, he knew since he moved he’s unlikely to get that kind of reaction, but he’s still wary. 

Being such a recluse, it didn't take long for the neighbors to start wondering about him. One night, three days into his new apartment and around 8pm, James is shocked out of thoughts by a loud knocking at his door. He sat in the leather chair in front of the dead tv for a moment, puzzled as to who would be knocking. He got up and took wide strides to the door, looking through the peephole to see a man he hasn't seen before. It an older man, wearing a hawaiin shirt. He opened up the door, making an effort to keep his face blank.

“Hello there! Pleasure to meet you,” The man put his hand out, clearly expecting a handshake. “I’m Harry Mason, I live next door. Figured I’d introduce myself, get all neighborly.” He gave James a kind smile, raising his eyebrows 

James hesitantly stuck his hand out, putting it into Harry’s gingerly. “James. Sunderland. Nice to meet you too.” 

“Ah, well, the pleasures’ all mine.” Harry had a firm grip, and when he pulled away James almost found himself missing the contact. Harry shifted, and James can see him holding a small basket. “Figured I’d give you a housewarming gift! A welcome to the neighborhood and all that.”

Harry handed the basket over to James. It's a wicker basket with a few odds and ends inside. A few apples, a scented candle, a bottle of wine. James hadn't received a gift like this in a while. He held the basket gingerly, as if it would disappear if he held it the wrong way.

“Kinda old fashioned, I know, but I figured you’d appreciate it. Is it just you living here?” Harry asked.

“Y-Yeah,” James stuttered, his eyes focused on the basket in his hands. “Just me.”

“Well, if you ever get a bit lonely, my door’s always open.” Harry pointed his thumb down the hallway. “Room 308. Don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything.” Suddenly, Harry turns his head to look down the hallway. Before James can stick his head out the door to see what he’s looking at, he hears footsteps of someone approaching. A man walks by Harry, hands full of groceries and headphones in his ears.

“Ah, Henry! Glad to see ya.”

“Mm,” The man, presumably Henry, replied, and he’s about to move on before he stops and looks at James. He takes out one of his headphones, and James can make out some kind of piano piece coming from the small speakers. “Who’s this?”

“This is James Sunderland,” Harry answers for him. “He just moved in!”

Henry gave James a once over, his eyes scanning over James. James actually felt insecure underneath Henry’s gaze. The feeling was unfamiliar, he hadn't usually cared what other people thought of him, not for a long time. James looked, and he saw an unknown emotion cross across Henry’s face. “Sunderland? You know a Frank Sunderland?”

James reeled from shock. “Yeah, thats. That’s my father.”

Henry nodded, a slow smile on his face. “Huh. I knew him, I lived in his building a few years ago.”

“Small world, huh?” Harry piped up. “James, this is Henry Townshend. You live in 302, right?”

Henry, surprisingly, shuddered, like a cold breeze suddenly passed him. “No. 305.”

“Huh, I could have sworn it was 302…” Harry trailed off and then shook his head. “Anyway. James, I’ll let you get back to your day. But if you ever want to hear gossip or just shoot the shit, you know where to find me!” Harry patted James on the shoulder, and walked off, his footsteps faded quickly. 

Henry stuck around for a moment, giving James another soul-piercing look. James felt his face heat up from the over-examination. “The guy who lived here before was a real asshole.” Henry spoke up. “As long as you don't blast terrible music at 4am, you’re alright in my book.” Henry then put in his dangling headphone and walked off, unlocking his door and stepping swiftly inside.

James stood for a moment, hand still gripping the basket, before shuffling closer inside his apartment and closing the door. He gently placed the basket down on the counter, and then gave a long, weary sigh. That was the first human interaction he had in a long while, and it kept running through his mind. Harry seemed like an alright guy. The fact that he put together an entire welcome basket showed he was a nice guy, at least somewhat. Who makes a basket for people who they barely know? And who wears a hawaiian shirt during early fall? James wasn't going to question it, he’d just gotten free alcohol after all, but he still was curious. Maybe Harry was a weird guy after all. He picked the wine up out of the basket and placed it on the counter, his thumb dancing over the label. 

_ But why was that Henry guy so interested in me?  _ He thinks, looking over the basket. The way Henry’s eyes scanned over him, he couldn't get it out of his mind. He still didn't understand the look Henry was giving him. Surprise? Anger? James wasn't sure.

It took until James was getting ready for bed when he actually recognized the look Henry was giving him earlier. It was latent with desire; There was no question about it. His eyes were dilated, and the way he checked James out, focusing on every inch of his body...It was like James was a slab of meat, and Henry was a wolf, eying him hungrily. James hadn't been looked at like that in a long time. When he did get those looks from strangers in the past, they would immediately cease as soon as James mentioned he had a wife. And Mary hadn’t given him ‘bed me eyes’ since even before her illness. 

He wasn't sure about how to feel about it. James was attracted to men as much as women, but he’d never told a single soul about it. He almost told Mary, countless times. But he somehow knew she wouldn't understand. James had never dated any men in his life, he mostly just admired from afar. Now that James had a man so blatantly interested in him in that way, James wasn't sure how to proceed. He could, after all, be misinterpreting the look Henry gave him. If he went up to Henry and reciprocated, and it turned out he was wrong? James shuddered at the thought. James flopped onto his bed, sitting upright on the mattress and staring at the wall.  _ It really isn't my problem,  _ James reasoned. _ I probably won't see him again anytime soon. _

So James leaned back and tried to sleep, staring listlessly at the ceiling for hours until finally drifting off. Ready to wake up and experience the same day over and over again.

* * *

There's a reason why James chose his apartment in specific. 

It's not because of the land value, or the room size, or anything material like that. James chose it because it overlooked the lake. 

The lake meant something to James, it always had. He often thinks of that day, with Mary, sitting at the shore. Having a small picnic, leaning against each other and watching the sun set over the water. The lake is where he knows her memory will be the strongest. 

Everyday, when he wakes up, he sits by the window overlooking the lake, and stays there. Sometimes for hours. He stares longingly at the water, watching the small waves being tossed by the wind. He thinks about what it would be like to plunge himself into that water. The all encompassing cold that would consume him. The overwhelming color of blue that would invade his vision. He thinks about what it would be like to drown. The way his hair would float around him in a halo, the way water would fill his lungs until he was choking, gasping for air.

_ A fitting punishment for a murderer,  _ his inner voice sneers. 

James knows he can't go to the lake. If he goes, he won't be able to resist its pull. He’ll sink into the waves and drown. He’ll plunge himself in, and he won’t turn back. He can't go to the lake, at least, not yet. The moment needs to be just right.

Every morning James sits by the window, looks at the waves, and knows how he’s going to die. He plans every moment just right. What he would leave behind, what route he would take, what he would wear. The lake is a constant reminder of his plan, and when he stares listlessly at it, he can almost taste the water on his tongue. 

**Author's Note:**

> -So. Here we are.  
> -Shoutout to all the people who bullied me on tumblr into making this. Welcome to the angst train everyone, CHOO CHOO  
> -I'm taking canon and I'm throwing it out the window for a lot of this. Just know if you have questions, they'll be answered in the coming chapters, don't you worry. This is the same James as the one directly before the game begins. (and we'll talk about Mary's death LATER, all you need to know is that she is dead and James feels guilty abt it.)  
> -PLEASE leave comments IM BEGGING you (also kudos would be sick as well)


End file.
